


The Uncertain Future

by signifying_nothing



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Post Winter Cup, clothesburn, handjobs, kasamatsu yukio has a Feeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 09:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: Every time Kise cries, Kasamatsu wants to do one of two things: walk away from him in order to preserve his own dignity and control, or pull in the tall blond idiot in order to give him somewhere to hide. Kise can't hide anything, of course. That makes it an easier decision.





	The Uncertain Future

**Author's Note:**

> in which kasamatsu yukio is kind of in love with kise ryota but hasn't really given it much thought till just now.  
> this evolved fairly organically from the little post-loss sexy moment i had planned out, so i hope it's enjoyable!

Every time Kise cries, Kasamatsu wants to do one of two things: walk away from him in order to preserve his own dignity and control, or pull in the tall blond idiot in order to give him somewhere to hide. Kise can't hide anything, of course. That makes it an easier decision.

The bus ride back home from the Winter Cup is a quiet one. Their entire team is exhausted and most of them are asleep, having showered and gotten re-dressed in the locker room before climbing onto the bus. Everything smells like clean skin and hair.

Kasamatsu waits for ten minutes before he wanders back to where Kise is sitting in the very back of the bus, his knees folded up against the seat in front of himself, his arms wrapped around his own torso as though to hug himself as tight as he could. He looks like a little kid and it takes all of Kasamatsu's considerable control to keep from heaving a sigh.

“Shove in,” he murmurs, and Kise silently does as he's told. It's unnatural for Kise to be so quiet. It's not like him. Kasamatsu hates it.

“It's not your fault,” he says, and he knows he's said it four or five times already but Kise doesn't believe him. He can read it in every line of his body, in the way he turns his head towards the window and rests his temple against the glass. “Kise. Look at me.”

Kasamatsu's voice is gentle, moreso than usual. Kise is delicate right now. If there's anything Kasamatsu has learned about the Generation of Miracles from talking to Takao and Momoi, it's that when they crack, they crack deeply. When the untouchable fall, they have such a long, long way to go before they hit the ground. Kise is still falling. Maybe he'll hit the bottom tonight once he's alone, but Kasamatsu likes to think that Kise trusts him enough to let him... Let him _help,_ somehow.

Kise looks at him and Kasamatsu can see that his eyes are red, his lips are raw, and his nose has been rubbed pink in the effort to wipe away tears before they can fall. His breathing sounds conjested, and Kasamatsu reaches one arm to wrap around Kise's surprisingly narrow waist. For all that he's tall and broad-shouldered, Kise is built a bit like a scarecrow: all sticks.

“It's _not_ your fault, Ryota.”

The use of his first name makes Kise's carefully constructed and weakly maintained facade crumble. He looks ugly and ridiculous, which Kasamatsu thinks is only fair. Someone so handsome should have some kind of handicap, even if it's only ugly crying.

He lets Kise turn into him, lets him bury his face into his neck. One of Kise's hands covers his own mouth to keep himself quiet and he shakes with the force of trying to hold back as much as he can. Kasamatsu pets his hair as the city very slowly rolls by, the traffic dense. When Kise finally looks up, lip still trembling, Kasamatsu presses the softest of kisses to his forehead. Kise gives a great sniff, wipes at his own face with his sleeves, and hunkers down so he can rest his head on Kasamatsu's chest, hugging him fiercely.

Kasamatsu tries not to let this get in the way of basketball, the way the two of them get so close, but it seemed so inevitable that he and Kise would fall into this pattern of comfort. Kise needs physical touch and reassurance, he needs _love,_ and while Kasamatsu isn't sure he's really doing Kise any favors, he knows that Kise appreciates the chance to just bask in someone's attention—someone who isn't paying attention to him because he's a member of the Generation of Miracles, or because he's a model. He appreciates it because Kasamatsu doesn't let him get away with any shit, because Kasamatsu expects his best and nothing less, because Kasamatsu is a senpai who demands his respect, but also gives it in return.

“You did good, Ryota,” he murmurs into the fluffy blond hair. “You did real good. There's always next year.”

“You won't _be here_ next year, senpai,” Kise whispers, misery turning his words into a weak little protest. His hand fists in Kasamatsu's clean jersey.

“So you're just gonna have to win for yourself, aren't you,” Kasamatsu murmurs, trying not to let it hurt—the knowledge that Kise is right.

“I wanted to win with you,” Kise says, squirming closer with insistence. Kasamatsu obligingly kisses his hair, rubs his hand up and down Kise's shoulder and back.

They stay like that all the way back to school. Tucked close together, their bodies warm. Kise is the first to pull away, when the bus stops. Kasamatsu remembers telling him that the rest of the team shouldn't find out about their... Relationship? It's not really a relationship. But Kise is the first one to pull away.

Once off the bus the team disperses like dead leaves scattering into the snow, and Kasamatsu grabs Kise's jersey to keep him from going anywhere. “Come on,” he says. “Come to my place.” Kise nods, and lets Kasamatsu tug him along. He doesn't live very far away. His apartment is clean and homey and the second they walk in the door, as soon as it is locked behind them, Kasamatsu takes Kise's face in his hands and kisses him, warm and wet and slow.

Kise's knees buckle and he falls to the step of the foyer. Kasamatsu wraps an arm around his waist to make sure he doesn't go down too hard, kneels in front of him and deepens the kiss until he's damned well good and ready to move away. When he does, Kise is breathless, blushed and shivering.

Kasamatsu smiles as he unlaces Kise's shoes and pulls them from his feet. His fingers feel out the swell of skin and bone to determine if Kise needs a brace just yet. He doesn't. In a few hours, maybe, if it starts to hurt again. As it is, he pulls off his own shoes, shrugs out of his jacket and stands, hauling Kise up to his feet and tugging him into the apartment, toward his large, low bed. Kise falls back onto it and Kasamatsu looks down at him, smiling tolerantly. He likes Kise like this, if he's honest. Breathless, shivering, quiet and obedient as he wiggles out of his clothes and lays back onto the bed, arms over his head.

“I'm so proud of you,” Kasamatsu murmurs, pulling off his own shirt, getting onto the bed and kneeling between Kise's bare and open legs, sliding his hands up those beautiful thighs to touch the narrow waist and then the delicate cage of his ribs. Kise shivers, stares up at him and opens his legs just a little more. Kasamatsu leans closer, settles his weight and licks at Kise's chest. The press of groin isn't unbearable yet, but Kise is quick to arouse, even quicker when he's not the one in control of a situation. Kise doesn't get off on being dominant—he gets off on submission, on giving up to someone else, someone who is going to take care of him. Kasamatsu had thought at first that it was some kind of BDSM thing, but it isn't. It's just Kise needing to be coddled, because no one else is going to coddle him or take care of him. Kise is always so busy being used, that complete relaxation in the presence of someone who wants what's best for him is like complete freedom, or so he's told Kasamatsu.

“You did good, Ryota.”

“Senpai,” Kise whispers, arching up under Kasamatsu's fingers sliding over his chest, up his neck, up his arms, trembling to either side of his head. He's already getting hard, rocking his hips in little movements against Kasamatsu, panting. If he was anyone else, Kasamatsu would tease him for being easy but since he's Kise, he doesn't. He just bends to kiss him, rests his weight completely on top of Kise and enjoys the way he groans, tilts his head back, fists his hands.

He can feel the heat of Kise's erection rubbing at his groin through the soft material of his sweats. He can feel Kise shivering anxiously, can feel his heartbeat against his tongue as he licks one nipple. Kise gasps sharply and jerks up.

“I'm proud of you,” Kasamatsu whispers into the hair near Kise's ear. The little touch of praise shivers through Kise, Kasamatsu can _feel_ it like he always does. Spoiling Kise isn't something he's supposed to do—it's like indulging in a bad habit—but... It's okay, he thinks. It's okay, because Kise is upset and he needs to be spoiled right now.

Kise makes a little noise like a whimper and wraps his arms around Kasamatsu's shoulders, hugs him down and hides against his clothed chest. Kasamatsu wonders if he feels protected like this—with his legs around someone's waist, hugging them, hiding in their skin and the weight of their body. He kisses the top of Kise's head and rocks his hips in an easy rhythm, even and firm. Steady. Kise shivers, whines into his throat and tries to match him, rolling his body up so he's not just laying there, but Kasamatsu isn't having any of it. He drops his weight to his forearms, which he's pushed under Kise's shoulders, and starts to thrust, listening to Kise's little yelp of surprise, enjoying the way Kise struggles to get a little control over the situation. Kasamatsu won't give it to him, he won't. Kise has been struggling so hard for the entire week, and it's time now for him to lay back and let himself be taken care of.

“Relax,” Kasamatsu whispers into his ear. “Let me take care of you, Ryota. I'm right here.” He's rarely so gentle with Kise. But Kise is fragile and depressed and _alone,_ so Kasamatsu takes up that responsibility with no small amount of quiet pleasure. He likes it. Taking care of Kise. Though he'd never, _never_ admit it.

Kise is squirming under him, having slumped back to the bed and started to pant, his eyes hooded, his lips open. His hands are pressing up against the bedframe, trying to keep himself in place against Kasamatsu's hard rocking, cotton to skin, and his nipples are hard, his ears and cheeks blushed.

“Senpai,” he says, reaching up with one hand and grabbing at the sleeve of Kasamatsu's shirt. He's close. His hand keeps clenching and unclenching, his thighs are tensing and trembling. “Senpai, Kasamatsu-senpai.” His words are more like moans, his blond hair is sticking to his forehead and cheeks and Kasamatsu, in a fit of insanity, leans in and kisses his open lips, sucks softly.

“Yukio,” he breathes into Kise's startled mouth. “You can call me Yukio, Ryota. When we're like this.”

Kise stares up at him and Kasamatsu smiles down at him. Silly, silly Kise—so cocksure and arrogant and at the same time so fucking breakable, so afraid. Kise Ryota of the Generation of Miracles, the ace on his team, the one whose eyes burn molten gold on the court, whose legs give out when he finally has to give in to the pain. Kise Ryota, his kouhai, who looks at him with unabashed admiration and pride, who cries when they lose— _I wanted to win with you._

 _I wanted to win with you too, Ryota,_ Kasamatsu thinks, as Kise's thighs jerk apart and his hips tilt and his back arches off the bed. He listens to Kise gasp out his given name, clutching at him, coming all over his belly and Kasamatsu's sweatpants, twitching against him.

“Yukio-san,” Kise whines, and Kasamatsu bends to kiss him, hums when Kise spits into his own hand, scoops up the semen on his belly and slips that hand down into Kasamatsu's sweats and grips his erection, tugs gently. “Yu, Yukio-san.”

“Feels good, Ryota,” Kasamatsu whispers into his cheek, kissing his lips and jaw. “Just like that, nn, feels good, shit.” Kise's fingers are warm and slick with his own cum, his palm is smooth and for a moment, Kasamatsu wonders what it would be like to have sex with Kise properly. To be inside of him, as close as they could physically be. Kise would be hot inside, tight and wet with lube. He'd squirm and whine and blush and Kasamatsu barely has time to think about how good it would feel when Kise came before he's coming himself, gasping, pushing down against Kise's groin and against his hand, his balls aching at the pressure of body to body.

The two of them lay still for a few minutes, before Kasamatsu sits up and reaches for yesterdays t-shirt, still on the floor beside the bed. He wiggles out of his sweats and wipes himself off—wipes Kise's belly off, and his hand, while Kise lays there and pants, limp and shivering.

With the shirt tossed aside, Kasamatsu pulls up his blanket, bunched up at the end of the bed. He tugs it over their bodies while Kise stares at him in confusion.

“Senpai?”

“I'm not your captain anymore, right?” Kasamatsu says, feeling tired and contented. Kise tenses up, and Kasamatsu smacks his shoulder. “So you can stay the night, Kise.”

There is a quiet moment of silence before Kise nods, and he turns, tucking his bigger body against Kasamatsu and sniffling a little, like a kid. Kasamatsu smiles and lets him snuggle in. Yeah, the loss today sucks. He hates that he'll never play with this team again. But he still has Kise, and Kise has him, if he needs. Kasamatsu isn't slamming the door on this chapter of his life, merely closing it, not locking it. He'll wait for Kise.

Acknowledging the thought is strange. He's always suspected that he'll wait for Kise, but as he lays there with Kise Ryota tucked in against his chest with one arm wrapped around his body and the other bent under his head, he knows it's really true. Kise is flighty, irresponsible, overreactive and dramatic, but Kasamatsu cares about him anyway. Likes him anyway. Loves...

For now he just focuses on Kise sleeping in the bed beside him, his breathing even and slow and sure. His silly little ace. The relationship they share, Kasamatsu needing to take care of Kise, and Kise needing to be taken care of. The future's uncertain, but Kasamatsu is positive that Kise will be right behind him, calling his name, laughing, and reaching out for him. No matter where he goes to university, no matter if he and Kise can't see one another for a long time. Whether or not Kise wins the Winter Cup next year, or goes on to play professionally, Kasamatsu is sure that Kise won't go too far without glancing around for him first, to make sure he's still there.

And that, more than anything, makes Kasamatsu Yukio feel brave enough to hold on to Kise's hand as they lay there. He knows Kise won't let go now, even if Kasamatsu wanted him to.

He doesn't want him to.

Not ever.

Kasamatsu presses a kiss to Kise's forehead. Kise sighs and presses into it, and Kasamatsu can feel the little smile against his collarbones and neck. It's comforting. Comfortable. He kind of loves it. He's not really ready to tell Kise that. He's not brave enough yet. But maybe someday soon. He's not the captain anymore, after all. He's just Kasamatsu Yukio, a young man who is quietly in love with Kise Ryota.

Somehow, he knows Kise won't want him to be anything else once he finds out. He's that kind of simpleton after all. He'll hold on to Kasamatsu and make sure that _everyone_ knows. He'll flaunt it, show it off, defend it with every inch of his being when it's threatened. Once Kise knows, he'll be the one taking care of Kasamatsu, and won't that be a change of roles.

Kasamatsu almost looks forward to it.

 


End file.
